


Midnight Radio

by perbe, sturmfreii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Multi, Teenage Drama, au!tokyo ghoul, depictions of gore and body horror, features self deprecation, the full tg experience basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perbe/pseuds/perbe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sturmfreii/pseuds/sturmfreii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asahi just wants everyone to know that volleyball players are friends, NOT food. Noya doesn't know what he wants. What follows is a story of two boys trying to fit in.</p><p>[ In which Asahi is a ghoul and Noya is a ghoul and "fitting in" is more complicated than either of them could ever expect. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Azumane

**Author's Note:**

> A small glimpse into the daily life of 2nd year Asahi Azumane (at least, the human half of it). He’s not what he seems. 
> 
> In other news, I’m amazed at the lack of 2nd year Asahi I see floating around. I’m also amazed at how well their characters fit with being ghouls. Maybe they’re secretly ghouls behind our backs?
> 
> \-- Moony
> 
> Next up (2): Noya isn't as optimistic

Volleyball always came easily to him.

 

Rather, he loves the weight of the ball in his palm, how it slams into his hand and makes his skin sting from the leather as it careens into the gym floor. Asahi has yet to find anything that exactly compares to it, or even remotely matches the sensation it gives birth to in his chest. The ball in his hand gives him the feeling he actually has control, can make it go any which way or direction.

 

If only some things are as easy to control as the ball.

 

“Whoa there, Asahi! I could barely get that! What’re you trying to do, rip my arm off?” Daichi’s groaning pulls the male back into reality, only to watch as Daichi rubs his arms and stretches his hands, “That was impressive, just don’t spike it so hard in practice!”

 

Asahi feels himself blanching. “I-I’m so sorry! I-I’ll try not to hit it so hard!!” He waves his hands in the air, as if to try and desperately dismiss his error before even more attention is drawn to it. A few of the third year players have already begun to laugh, causing Asahi to turn near white as a sheet with embarrassment.

 

“Hey, hey! Don’t laugh at him, we could use that in a match!” Sugawara comes to Asahi’s rescue once again, a hand clasping his shoulder even though he is holding his own laughter back, “Don’t apologize for that, either. Daichi’s just a wimp and can’t handle it. Right?” He turns back towards Daichi and smirks.

 

“Suga! Why don’t you try getting that ball?” retorts the male, sighing.

 

Asahi lets out a soft laugh at the response. Suga smiles at him, only to be called over to set the ball for an eager third year wing spiker. Wordlessly, Asahi steps off to the sidelines to take a drink from his water bottle. It feels good. This routine of his, it felt better than it ever had in the past. Daichi and Suga somehow make it that much easier, to be able to stand among everyone else and play.

 

 _It’s because of them I can stand here and play...and they don’t even realize what I am._ Asahi frowns, his gaze resting on the water bottle in his palm. Any ghoul in his right mind would have called this crazy--playing human simply because he wants to. Most do it out of necessity, out of a desire to keep living for another day. Most carry a heavy hatred towards humans. Only, Asahi doesn’t. _I just want to play volleyball and live in peace. Is that so hard to ask for?_

 

Apparently it is, as long as Daichi is around. “Asahi, c’mon, we’re closing up early for today. Get your butt in gear.” Daichi wastes no time in prodding the other’s shoulder, passing him by with the volleyball cart in tow. 

 

“You… don’t have to hit me…” Asahi mutters, picking up one of the spare balls still left out of the gym and tossing it into the cart.

 

Daichi actually laughs at that one, and a smile briefly flickering on Asahi’s features.

 

“Asahi! We’re going to get some pork buns after practice, would you like to join us?” Suga passes by the other, a balled up fist gently nudging the other’s arm. “Or, what is it this time? You’ve got more interesting old ladies to attend to?”

 

Suga might as well call him the liar that he is, draw out the multi page list of all the instances Asahi had practically avoided them the entire summer. It didn’t help his case, considering he gave the shittiest excuse of ‘my neighbors need help with something’ nearly every single time.  Asahi reminds himself to breathe, and let's out a guilty sort of chuckle. “It’s not that I’m not interested, Suga! I’m serious when I say I was busy!”

 

Suga pauses, throwing a momentary look of surprise over his shoulder. “No, that’s fine, I get that...just, be honest with us, alright? Daichi hates when people give the same excuse three times in a row. If you really aren’t up for it, I think he’d rather take that then something with your elderly neighbors.”

 

Softly, Asahi lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ll join you for pork buns.”  

 

“Good!” Suga brightens with the words, jogging across the gym to collect his water bottle, “Meet me in the club room, then, and we’ll head out!”

 

Nodding, Asahi collects his discarded jacket off to the side of the gym. Daichi joins him on the way out, the two of them soon joining Suga in the club room and changing back into their regular clothes before heading out.

 

\----

 

 _I hate pork buns._ Asahi gives the food in his mouth zero chance to be tasted, a few mimicked chews only to be followed by swallowing the vile substance.  _It’s like I’m eating rotting trash out of the garbage dump._ He wonders how fellow ghouls even survive in places like grocery stores--practically everything in those places smell disgusting. It feels like he is preparing for a marathon, just getting ready to take the next bite of the pork bun.

 

“Hey, Asahi, how’s your pork bun? They’re not as fresh this time…” Daichi inquires, giving a small frown towards his food.

 

“Really? I can’t tell the difference.” Asahi mutters, feigning the surprise in his tone as he swallows. _I’m gonna get sick. God, I need to practice this._ “Was the last one you had fresh?”

 

Daichi nods, taking a large enough bite out of the pork bun that Asahi had to glance away. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s still edible.” he shrugs his shoulders with the words, glancing over at Suga, “Yours is good, right?”

 

“Of course!” Suga takes an eager bite out of his own pork bun, sighing contently, “I kinda missed this! The three of us hanging out, eating pork buns after practice.”

 

All three of the teenagers nod, soft hums escaping them.

 

“I’m almost kind of bummed the third years didn’t open up the gym to practice before now. I mean, I studied a lot, but beyond that… I felt like I had nothing better to do!” Suga gives an exasperated sigh, waving his pork bun in the air, “What did you two even do, to avoid falling asleep?”

 

Asahi doesn’t volunteer first. He never does, with that kind of question--Daichi and Suga probably realize this by now. Daichi begins to fill in some of the miscellaneous details of his own summer--independent practice, a mix between studying and errands. Something about a family trip to Tokyo was being discussed, though Asahi places his focus on trying not to throw up his pork bun.

 

“... Asahi?” Daichi’s confused tone catches Asahi’s attention, the male flinching and glancing over at him in surprise.

 

“Y-Yes?” Asahi almost fears for the worst, only to find Daichi and Suga were both staring at him. _Oh no, they’re suspecting me. Of what, though? Did I do something wrong? Did I swallow and not chew? Are my eyes….?!_

 

Suga breaks the silence with a sigh. “Jeeze, you’re zoning out too much lately! We don’t see you half the summer and you’re just as jittery as ever. Is something wrong?”

 

Asahi tries to avoid the sigh of relief that nearly escapes him, almost glad it isn't some other dreaded question. A question of discovery.  “N-No, I’m sorry, I’m alright…” Asahi assures them, his voice lowering, “I’ve just been… tired, I guess.”

 

Daichi hums, propping elbow against his knee. “Alright, just...don’t sweat the small stuff, alright? We’re gonna do great this year, I know it. I feel like we’ve got a good shot at the fall preliminaries… and if we’re lucky, we’ll get real far.”

 

“Lucky?” Suga laughs at the word, “You just said you thought we’d do well! Who says we need luck to get that far? But...I get what you mean. Some of those amazing middle school players I heard about are moving up to be first years. Who knows, maybe we’ll get the cream of the crop!”

 

Asahi smiles at the thought, rising from his seat. “I like to think we will.” he remarks, taking a bite of the last of his pork bun before discarding the wrapper. He forces a smile on his face, despite the lingering taste of rotten pork in his mouth. “I’m heading home. I’ll see you guys at afternoon practice.”

 

“Alright!” Daichi and Suga both wave goodbye, their voices lingering behind Asahi as he began to make his way down the street. He keeps listening for them, focusing on their words, almost as if to try and block out his own thoughts. Its not until he’s mounting the steps to his home that he wonders what tomorrow may bring.

 

 _I’m tired._ The thought catches up to him when he slams the door shut behind him, dropping the back to the floor. It felt like the usual. Tomorrow will run in a similar fashion--school, practice, pork buns or the walk home, homework or reading, bed. It only varied on the hunting days. _That’s not for another week or so._ Asahi recalls, rolling out the mattress on the floor, _I should be fine._

 

Asahi just has to remain composed for tomorrow. Follow through the routine, meet the first years, and move along.

 

Easy, right?

 


	2. Nishinoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in internalized impressions, to be mulled over later in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i'm devin, the other author of this fic. we're super excited to present chapter two, and i'm really sorry it's so late!! but school got out and i haven't failed math, so there's that. i hope you all enjoyyy. 
> 
> * there's a bit of timeline tweaking with this one, so beware
> 
> Coming up next (3): Asahi's not the greatest with composure.

Yuu leaves before Kou wakes up. He drapes his share of blankets over the kid’s lump on the bed, pads down the hallway, and sticks a note onto the front door.

 

 _School_ , it reads, _will be back at 18:00. There’s meat in the fridge_.

 

He tugs his bookbag (empty) to give his hand something to do and looks around the apartment one last time. The windows still bear grey snow-stains from last winter. The wallpaper is mostly gone now, revealing the rust colored stone beneath. He can hear the whirring of the refrigerator fan, interspersed with the sound of the rain finding the leak in the roof. It sounds like the whole place is melting, and that he will be soon to follow. Yuu scoffs at the mental image, but waits until he gets to the grass before he brings his heel to the ground, anger caught in in his throat. It’s the first day of school and already, he can’t even face Kou, his little brother. He sinks first to his heels, then to his knees. The dew beading against his skin makes him feel a little better.

 

“Stupid,” he says. He looks at the grass between his fingers. It is a green that almost hurts his eyes, irreconcilable with the smoky shadows that seem to sprout from the shack. “You’re lucky. You should feel happy about this.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

But he has a bus to catch, and waiting any longer would just prove the nagging little voice in the back of his head right.

 

“Stupid,” he says again, his fingers unfurling from their death grip on the grass.

 

He casts one last look at the shack and the sad, droopy vegetation around it before he jogs downhill to the bus station.

 

_I’m not scared._

 

He walks faster.

 

_I’m not._

 

;;;

 

At school, the colors intensify. Orange flyers, yellow book bags, blue bikes, people, desks dragging against the floor, summer lingering in the form of dappled sunlight on tiled walls. Someone brushes past him, a hot warm blood-flushed hand on his shoulder. Yuu flinches away but he is alone, the press of black uniforms around him strange and familiar and unspeakably sad.

 

Yuu stills, telling himself he’s looking for his old friends from middle school. He does not think of Kou shivering by his side, hair plastered to his forehead in the icy rain.

 

There are so many people in this world.

 

“Hey you, are you a first year? Are you in any clubs yet?” A voice shakes him from his thoughts. The speaker is an upperclassman who wears confidence like it was tailored for him. He flashes Yuu an easy smile. “This is a bit rude but our wrestling club could really use more people in the lower weight classes. There aren’t a lot of people in general, actually, so you’d get a lot of personal attention, even as a first year.”

 

“I’m in the volleyball club already,” Yuu says. He thinks over the weight of the syllables on his tongue for a moment, and the way they should fall. He feels himself grin; he has a good memory. He doesn’t say: _but I bet I can take you on, as long as my nose is right and you’re human_.

 

“Hey, hey, but the volleyball club only has --”

 

But Yuu is already walking away, and if the rest of the sentence is lost in the crowd of colors that is Karasuno’s hallways, that’s fine. Yuu does better at handling things as they’re thrown at him; mulling it over tends to do strange things to his stomach and he’s just eaten yesterday --

 

 _Think human thoughts_ , Yuu reminds himself. The hallways fading by, people shuffling to their classes, posters being hastily tucked away. He looks at his schedule and heads towards his homeroom. He catches sight of his reflection in a glass case full of academic awards and makes a gross face at it.

 

His eyes are wide, brown, ringed with white.

 

He exhales.

 

;;;

 

_Hey Yuu, hey Yuu, did you listen to the news?_

_Woah, calm down kiddo, I just got back. What do you want me to know?_

  
  


;;;

 

“-- Bow, sit.” Thirty three chairs scrape against the ground. “Take out your notebooks.” Thirty two pairs of hands shuffle drowsily in thirty two bookbags.

 

Yuu looks at the surface of his desk, studying the variations in its grains. He slouches in his chair.

 

“Nishinoya. Where is your notebook?”

 

Yuu glares at his desk for a second longer and breathes in. Alright, it’s been longer than he thinks it has, him and school and all. But he’s going to meet that stupid teacher’s eyes because how dare he -- how _dare_ someone with _everything to take for granted_ , someone with heating in the winter and parents to visit on weekends --ask that question? Does he ever think that maybe Yuu is poor, and that maybe Kou and him are both monsters, but --

 

At least he’s _trying_.

 

“I --” he starts.

 

“I took it,” a boy says, abruptly over him. “Here it is.”

 

Yuu blinks.

 

The boy grins back at him -- a cartoon banana smile -- and slips him an embarrassingly action-figure decorated notebook.  “The name’s Tanaka, Tanaka Ryuunosuke! Nice to make your acquaintance!”

 

“Get to work,” says their teacher. He walks away, but not before giving Yuu one last dubious look.

 

“Hey, where are your manners, huh? You’re supposed to tell me ‘ _it’s nice to meet you too_!’ or somethin’. That’s usually how etiquette works right? Unless it doesn’t?” Tanaka says. He scratches the back of his head. “Sorry about taking your notebook, though.”

 

 _But it isn’t_ \--

 

Oh.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you delinquent,” Yuu says. Tanaka snickers. “Nice to meet you too.”

 

;;;

 

_They say that ghouls look just like humans. So I guess you’ll be fine, huh?_

 

;;;

 

“Soooo. You’re staying after school,” Tanaka says after the bell rings. “What club? Or are you just waiting for your _dearly beloved_ to show up and walk into the sunset with you?”

 

“Volleyball. I kind of have to be in the club,” Yuu finds himself saying. “I got in on an athletic scholarship, so I have to keep up with it or something. Besides, volleyball is fun.”

 

Tanaka’s almost bouncing in excitement. “ _Seriously_? I just signed up for the volleyball club, too! But, _dude_ \-- a scholarship? That’s really cool. You have to be _really_ good, right?”

 

On his bedroom counter is that libero trophy from middle school, the one he never really felt like he deserved. And he remembers how easy it is to make his body move like he wants it to -- because maybe he’s weak for a ghoul, but there has never been a question of comparison when it comes to humans. A year and some later and his limbs have retained those memories perfectly, just in time for Karasuno’s selection process. It’s not exactly fair. Not exactly human.

 

“I guess,” Yuu says.

 

Tanaka looks at him for a while. “You don’t sound too sure. We should go to club right now -- c’mon, c’mon -- so you can figure out if you mean it.”

 

“But --”

 

“No buts!” Tanaka cackles, herding Yuu towards the direction of the gym. “I’m not too bad myself you know? Play me one on one, shorty!”

 

“What the hell did you just say to me --” They are almost there. Yuu pushes back, but he’s still rusty on the threshold of human strength.

 

Tanaka takes it as a sign to march him past the doors. “Oh! You’re mad! Play me then, c’mon!”

 

“Let go of me you punk and I will --” Yuu starts.

 

But Tanaka’s grip has already left his shoulders -- the guy’s running around tearing first his Karasuno jacket off and then unbuttoning his shirt and letting the sleeves slide off his arms. He grabs the collar and waves it in the air like a flag. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, BRING IT ON, NISHINOYA YUU!”

 

Despite himself, Yuu hears laughter spilling past his lips. He gets into a standard receiving position and waits.

 

Beside him, there is a thud as the volleyball makes contact with the ground. Yuu’s eyes widen. He hadn’t noticed the other person in the gym -- he’d been distracted by the feeling of being part of something else, just like anyone would be, the feeling of finally, finally being someone other than himself. It’s dangerous because noticing things is his only edge when he’s small and weak and --

 

 _Thud_. The next spike has lost some of its power. Maybe the boy’s tiring out. Or maybe the boy is testing himself, somehow. The boy throws a third ball high, toward the net, and approaches.

 

Tanaka is still hollering and waving his makeshift flag around.

 

Maybe it isn’t fair, that he’s a ghoul with instincts and reflexes much better than that of the average human’s. Maybe he’s neither here nor there in the ghoul world and in the human world. Yet maybe for the moment, it doesn’t matter. With the ball in front of him, there’s a clear choice to be made.

 

Yuu breathes in, letting his thoughts focus on the boy spiking the balls across the net. Even though the power of the second decreased, it was still formidable. He smiles, and sinks down lower into his stance. When the third spike goes over the net, he calls, “Mine!”

 

And receives it.

 

;;;

  
  


_I mean, I’ll try. I’ve done it before._

_Mom and Dad --_

_I’ll come back, Kou. Hey! You’re choking me. Listen to your elders. Do you really want me to tickle you till you let go?_

  
_Yeah, okay._


	3. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its evident oil and water don't mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd think writing volleyball would be just a tiny bit easier than actually trying to play it. You're dead wrong. Moony here to present chapter 3 (after several late night drafts and maybe a little bit of 3AM editing). 
> 
> Have fun! (it only gets heavier from here).
> 
> Up next: Chapter Four is going to be called "Shit"

_And then he falters._

\------------

Another volleyball, tossed high into the air. He notes it’s higher than Suga’s tosses, the ball just a tiny bit too close to the net. He adjusts. He feels the ball slam into his palm, the sting of his skin as he slams it into the floor over the net.

_Too much._

Frowning, he cradles another ball in his hands. He tosses it lightly into the air--only to find it's too short. He catches it with a huff, makes a second attempt, only to watch as it curls into the air and arches itself over the net. _How does Daichi do it? I can barely do it, even like this!_ It felt like it was going to take take him eons just to get the right one--a fraction of a second to recognize the perfect moment. _Maybe I’m lucky...having reflexes like this._

He banishes the reminder from his thoughts.

Again, the ball soars. He concentrates on his speed, the approach--the spike. Another ball careens into the floor, rebounding with a heavy thud near the middle line of the court.

Softer, but still too much.

He hears yelling, loud voices echoing in the gymnasium. He doesn’t recognize them. Another volleyball in hand, the previous ones rolling towards the back wall of the space. _First years, maybe?_ Asahi wonders  as he tosses the ball into the air, his gaze following its path. Maybe a little bit of social pressure is what he needs to get this right.

Daichi always said Asahi operated at maximum efficiency under the pressure of a game--the weight of human gazes on a creature like him. Gazes that expect nothing but human conformity. _I won’t let them find out._ The ball's beginning to drop. He hastens his approach, a hastily made spike causing the ball to hit past the back line of the court. Out.

Asahi doesn’t give himself too much to think over the tosses. Not when he feels a someone’s gaze on him. He grabs one of the few remaining volleyballs from the cart, hoisting it up into the air. It soars, far too high, the wing spiker registering something off. _They stopped yelling. Why did they stop…?!_

__

And then he falters.The second year’s breath hitches, hand slamming into the ball and spiking it over the net far too quickly. _No, no, that was too much--!!_

“Mine!”

Coffee colored hues widen as his feet slam into the floor, nearly causing him to stumble. They lock onto a figure across the net, watching as a boy just about perfectly receives his spike. _Wait, he received it?_ Even Daichi had complained about that spike, how it was too hard--too much force behind it. _How did_ he _…?_

__

“ _Whoa!!_ That was an amazing spike!” the first year in front of him actually slides under the net, breaching the gap between them in seconds. “You must be a regular! That was incredible! If I was any slower I might’ve actually missed it! And your _form_! You’ve _definitely_ got to be a regular--are you a third year?!”

_O-Oh my god._

Asahi finds his head _reeling_ at all the questions, his frame habitually shriveling under the pressure. “I-I’m a second year.” the male stutters, taking one step back for every step the younger took forward, “I-I’m a wing spiker--”

“ _Aha_! I had a feeling! _Second_ year, though? You look way too old to be a second year!” the first year bounces on his heels, the look on his face reminding Asahi of an excited puppy. “Your height though--you’ve _got_ to be the Ace on the team, right? I mean--the Ace is the coolest position, because you’re the one who handles all the risky plays! You’re the strongest offensively on the team, you handle the most critical plays and score points when we need ‘em most!” The younger boy suddenly moves forward again, and the second year’s breath once again hitches as they practically stood chest to chest. “My name’s Nishinoya! Nishinoya Yuu! A pleasure to--”

_He’s a **ghoul**._

A mutual thought, one that cuts into the air between them as it seems to register in both of their minds at the same time. That scent, that strength, that _speed_ \--it all clicks into place the moment they stand so close to each other.

“...meet you.” Nishinoya’s voice drops to a murmur, his gaze growing harsher. He knew. How could he not? It was near impossible for ghouls _not_ to notice their own kind in a place swarming with humans, they were so vastly outnumbered.

Asahi thinks he’s going to be sick. “...Azumane Asahi.” he replies, tearing his gaze away from the first year. He wants to run, skip practice, lock himself in that lonely apartment of his. Suga had said running was in his nature--and perhaps, as a ghoul, it had to be. _Wait._ “Are you joining the volleyball club?”

“Yeah!” a second voice pipes up from his left. Asahi flinches and steps back as another young man enters his line of sight. “We both are!”

_He’s human._ The thick scent of human flesh and deodorant gives it away. He's noticeably taller than his fellow first year, maybe even a little more built. His skin's tan, the indentations of a tone body signaling he too had volleyball experience. Everything about this human practically _screams i_ ntense, from the shaved head to the piercing look of his eyes. _A delinquent, maybe?_ That’s the fast way to summarize it--a delinquent who likes to rip off his shirt and cause a scene.

“Yo, you guys alright?” the human speaks up, stepping a little bit forward.

“Yeah!” Nishinoya’s booming voice causes Asahi to shrink back, once again taking a step back to remove the distance between them. “We’re fine! Sorry, I got a little too excited there, Tanaka.”

_Tanaka_. Great, even the name sounds like one of those street gangsters. Maybe this guy is head of some mobster gang in the streets that like to pick fights with innocent people. Asahi is not liking this. _And he’s only a first year?!_

_But...that ghoul._ Asahi glances back towards the boy in front of him, watching him smile and laugh like nothing had actually happened. Tanaka doesn’t know, then. Just like Daichi and Suga. _What's a ghoul doing here?_ There’s a temptation to ask, festering in his mind, but he holds it back. _No, I won’t get a serious answer here like this. He’ll lie, as long as Tanaka is around._

Sometimes, ghouls prey on humans in their own environment--acquire jobs and live human lives only to make a game out of their hunts. That means anyone could be a target. A boss, a ‘friend’, a coworker. _Suga and Daichi._

“--and what about the big guy?” Tanaka waves a hand in front of the second year’s face, “Yo! Earth to...uh, Azumane, right? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine!” Asahi stammers, quickly giving a bow, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!”

“Y’don’t have to apologize to me about it! Aren’t you supposed to be the elder figure for us first years?” Tanaka laughs.

Nishinoya isn’t speaking up. Rather, Asahi is _glad_ he isn’t speaking up, already turning on his heel when he finally hears the familiar, pounding footsteps of his friends entering the gym.

“Sorry we’re late! Oh, are the third years running late too?” Suga steps into the gym with his usual smile, dropping his gym back near the door with Daichi close behind, “Asahi, we brought along some first years! Narita, Kinoshita, and Ennoshita--oh! Two more!”

Asahi moves away from the group as Suga cheerfully approaches, keeping his gaze on the ghoul as he picks up each of the discarded volleyballs.

This was going to be a _long_ practice.

\-----

_My lungs feel like they’re full of tar._ Asahi forces himself to breathe, in some desperate attempt of pulling himself out of his anxiety. _Where is he? Nishinoya, I have to find him, before something goes wrong._ Cold air fills his lungs as he searches, pivoting on his feet as he moves in the darkness. _I don’t smell him nearby. I can't smell him at all!_

Suga and Daichi laugh about something up ahead; smiles wide, bodies bathed in the artificial lighting of the street lamp overhead. Club bags hang loosely over shoulders, footsteps quiet, the familiar scent of human life clinging to their skin with a thick mixture of sweat. They’re safe, even if they don’t realize the danger that follows them only ten paces behind. And maybe that’s alright.

_I couldn’t find him when practice ended. Did he go home?_ Asahi kicks a stone in his way on the road, listening to it roll against the pavement. _Don’t tell me he walked with that human. Was I too careless? I should’ve stopped him the moment I realized._ Delinquent or not, Tanaka’s only a human--he doesn’t deserve that kind of end. _Do any of them, really?_

“That’s right! Asahi! We’re going to pick up some pork buns on the way home, do you want one?” Suga calls from ahead.

Asahi shakes his head, all too quickly. “No, I’m alright. It didn’t sit well with me last time, I’d rather not have one that’s not fresh again.”

“Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow then!” Suga waves, following Daichi as the two of them step onto the curb to enter the convenience store. “And--oh! Asahi, real quickly! Try not to give Nishinoya any more death glares? That first year. I think you might’ve scared him off before he even got the chance to see what a big goofball you are!”

“O-Ohh...I’ll try to stop, Suga.” Asahi finds himself shriveling up inside, head whipping around before Suga could register the look of frustration on his features. Knowing Suga, he just might be able to sense it, even inside the convenience store. _He doesn’t know_. No matter what he says, _he doesn’t know._ He can’t guess. He can’t _ever_ guess the truth. _I have to leave it that way._

Sharply, he breathes in, chest puffing out as he stubbornly turns on his heel. He marches down the street, in some vain attempt of working out the ever growing tension _festering_ in his body. Part of it might’ve been hunger. Or anger. Or **fear**. _I have to confront him._ But how? When? This is dangerous. _I can’t let him near the team._ Outside maybe? No, still people around. Indoors? People. Humans, too many of them. Privately? _No, I just met him today._ That’d be too obvious. _He knows I’m a ghoul too_. Would he tell Daichi and Suga? Take Asahi’s place on the team? _No. **No.** I absolutely **cannot let him--**_

Asahi forcefully slams the door behind him, hearing the wood crack somewhere in the frame. His school bag falls to the floor off his shoulder, hands shaking as he rips open the window. _I can’t think._ No, no, not like this. The thoughts. Anxiety. Pressure, pressure _pressure anxiety_ pressure _stress stress **stress anXIETY STRESS--**_

_I have to confront him._

**  
Now.**


End file.
